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IRELAND 



wA.3>J33 t:e3ce:<^ 



IRISH PEOPLE, 



PUBLISHED BY 




PATRIOTIC POEM 



ON 



IRELAND and the IRISH PEOPLE 



Descriptive of the generous soul 
Wlio must despise usurped control; 
Which sentiment holds highest place 
In all of the Milesian race. 



Likewise, will this poem explain 
Some tryanny of Bessie's reign, 
And how, by Saxon cunning fraud, 
Has Erin felt the vengeful rod. 



Her hopes and energies trod down 

By tyrant rule — usurper's crown; 

And how for ages she withstood 

While tyrants drained her martyrs' blood. 

—By a CLAN- A BOY. 
F. J. O'Neill. 



INTRODUCTION. 



Dear Readers : I find that the following poem was written 
on the 19tli January, 1875, and was called for because Dougall, 
of the Montreal Witness, had advertised a premium for the 
best poems on Ireland and the Irish people. And the writer 
of this our patriotic poem had observed (by reading some of the 
poems which appeared in the papers and were headed in com 
petition for the prize) that the animus of the poem writers was 
hostile to that honor and glory which is the rightful inher- 
itance of true Irishmen, and having reason to believe that the 
Montreal Witness was a defamer of the Irish people, he set 
about to write a true poem on Ireland, all of which he wrote on 
the night of Tuesday, 19tli January. He found that the premium 
had on that day been awarded to some other. He well knew 
that Dougall would not give publication to this poem; and as 
it is now in my possession I bring it before tlie public bocause 
I considered it to be too truthful and too patriotic to be left 
iohgeir in oblivion. 

If this will meet the desires and approbation of those for 
whom it is intended. I will shortly bring before the people 
some poems written by the same author, upon subjects very 
interesting to old and to the young, and well calculated to es- 
tablish elevated ideas and noble principles in the reader. 

In this poem I intend offering to the reader that source of 
pastime, pleasure and satisfaction which I hope you will all 
enjoy in the reading thereof. 

While I remain yours sincerely, 

The publisher, 

F. J. O'Neill. 



A poem friend Dougall could admire 
(On Erin) to get his desire. 
He offers premium for the best, 
Which raiglit induce some poor distressed 
To write with view of pleasing him 
And suit the story to his whim, 
Since judge of poems may well decide 
As prejudice or whim will guide. 



These things considered, in full scope 
Of the premium sum. destroys my hope; 
Since facts I'll state with truthful ease, 
Whether they please or may displease. 
And this I write in double haste 
I know won't suit friend Dougall 's taste. 
But if truth, exempt from all disguise, 
Prevails, I ought to get the prize. 



And as 1 find 1 come too late 

For the premium sum, I don't compete. 

Thus independently I stand, 

So truth and justice will command 

Each sentence that I will indite, 

And state each line I mean to write — 

Which poem will speak where'er it goes 

Of Erin's greatness, wrongs, and woes. 



POEIVL. 

In the Atlantic ocean, west 
Of England, lies an island blest 
With fertile soil and wholesome air. 
In Europe, there's no isle so fair 
With mountains, rivers, valleys greeo. 
This isle, long named the ocean queen, 
In high pre-eminence does stand. 
And this the isle called Ireland. 



The climate there is mild and good. 
No frost intense to chill the blood. 
No sultry sun will incommode 
The weary traveller on his road, 
Nor will his burning beams half broil 
The workman at his daily toil. 
By gentle breezes always fanned 
Is Nature's favorite, Ireland. 

But to describe all Erin's beauty 

Is to one hand a hopeless duty, 

Because a lifetime would he spend 

Ere he would half get to the end. 

Each harbor, lake, coast, creek and bay. 

From Cove of Cork to the Causeway, 

With her great edifices hoary 

That yet proclaim her ancient glory. 



And since for natural beauty she 
Is the gem emerald of the sea, 
On her no longer need I dwell, 
As history gives her tale so well. 
If more her merits would yon scan, 
Read Arosius and McGeogh-e-gan, 
While I'll endeavor to describe 
Her nobly brave Milesian tribe. 



McGeogh-e-gan did clearly trace 
This great Milesian noble race. 
At Noah has he first begun, 
And on through Japhet, Noah's son. 
There follows in his catalogue 
From Japhet's son the great Magog. 
Through Finius Farsa, Scythian king, 
He does the learned Niull bring. 



To Egypt Niul crosses the water 
And married Pharaoh's lovely daughter- 
The beauteous Scota was her name. 
From these the Gadaleans came; 
Which tribe we find did emigrate 
And settled for a time in Crete, 
Till afterwards they moved again 
And fixed their colony in Spain. 



This colony increased in Spain. 
At length Milesius came to reign. 
Soon after he departed life 
His sons — with them his widowed wife- 
Embarked and left the Spanish shore 
For a western island to explore, 
Which isle, by Druid's prophecy, 
Was to become their property. 



The Milesians gained the Irish soil 
And settled there despite turmoil, 
Having bards and sages, even more 
Men versed in all the ancient lore. 
Then Erin's sons were educated, 
As is by truthful writers stated. 
In learning more than Grecian sages 
In the learning of the pagan ages. 



And such did pagan Druids teach 

Until St. Patrick came to preach 

The Gospel, and Christ crucified, 

And rrect the church for which Christ died. 

The pagans met him face to face. 

And quickly did the truth embrace, 

Which proves, with other facts combined, 

They were educated and refined. 



If not educated and refined. 
With gentle soul and enlightened mind, 
Had ignorance in them been stronger 
They would have sat in darkness longer; 
For by observing we can find 
That the more enlightened is the mind 
The more it will in truth delight. 
And more easily brought from wrong to 
right. 



There then was education nourished, 
The Church of Christ for ages flourished; 
The people freed from sinful taints, 
And Ireland was the isle of saints. 
Religious houses were erected, 
And men of learning were respected. 
Then Irleand, the most learned nation, 
Was Garden styled, of Education. 



Age after age, her children good, 
Proud Ireland in her greatness stood. 
With saints and sages, warriors too. 
Among the nations were but few 
Or none, with Erin could compare 
For sons so brave and daughters fair. 
Fair, chaste and pure as Erin's waters 
A¥ere Erin's lovely, noble daughters. 



Such was the state of Ireland then, 
Though ignorantly blinded men, 
Degraded souls in foul condition, 
Say these were days of superstition. 
No, they were days of heartfelt pleasure, 
Religion was the heavenly treasure 
That Irish prized, and truly sought, 
And worshipped God as Christians ought. 



Then Religion, Love, and Liberty 
Increased in Ireland day by day. 
Although some feud or war or strife 
At times may have embittered life, 
The Irish had a happy nation 
Till Luther spouted Reformation. 
Then tyranny, by vengeful stroke, 
On the Irish strove to force the yoke, 



Here now did Ireland's pleasures end, 
When Harry and his choicest friend, 
And Ned and Bessy's majesty 
Combined to drive true faith away. 
Then Bess commenced her penal laws 
To aid the Retormation cause. 
While martyrs bled beneath her thongs- 
And here we're into Ireland's wrongs. 



The penal laws oppress the people; 
Off their church must come the steeple. 
Their priest's head rated as the wolf's, 
Their headless bodies thrown in gulfs. 
Some were consigned to watery graves, 
Some nobles were sold off as slaves, 
And heroes dragged to suffer slaughter 
On Bessy's wheel, Scavenger's Daughter. 



The pitch cap, gibbet, and the rack. 
Followed in this murderous track; 
And Erin (once a glorious nation), 
Bylaw deprived of education. 
Despoiled of commerce and of trade, 
This state of things more bloodshed made, 
And drove men from their homes afar 
Or forced them to defensive war. 



Our brave, unconquered warrior clan 
Withstood the Saxon to a man. 
In many a well-fought battlefield 
They made the tyrant Saxon yield. 
For years and years these warriors bled — 
Their martial spirit never fled 
From the succeeding generation, 
Proved by the following quotation : — 



10 



" Remember at CloHtarf, how the heroes defended 

Our country, and freed it from the tyrant Dane. 
Their invincible spirit through posterity descended, 

And urged our ancestors to conquest again. 
The clan Hyniall of Erin, so long lamed for bravery, 

Oft marshalled their clans Saxon progress to curb. 
For centuries they freed this our loved land from slavery, 

Remember at Port More, Blackwater and Benburb. 



" At Limerick they fought, at Aughrim on the Shannon, 

No cowards or traitors among the Clan-a-boye. 
They conquered at Ardmagh. Fort Morris and Dungannon, 

And faced all the legions of bloody Mountjoy. 
With pride and grief mingled should be recollected 

Before conquering Felim how British forces ran, 
Till with their drawn bodies a bridge was erected 

On which the noble hero marched dry across the Bann.* 



" Drumfleigh the yellow ford in Clontabret still reminds us 
( How these warriors conquered and swept down the foe. 
Who then could have thought that futurity would find us 

Trampled into slavery, mean, abject, and low. 
For centuries sixteen by them we were defended. 

The pride of Roman legions they humbled of old; 
Who would not feel proud when legally descended. 

Of such a line of heroes great, glorious, and bold." 

••'• Wliere staiul^^ the bridge .since then called "the Battleford bridge." 



11 



ISTone but the dastard, craven soul 

Could tamely bear usurped control, 

Or aid the tyrant that oppressed 

And drained the life blood from his breast. 

Just so our noble Irish race 

Could not endure such foul disgrace, 

But fought and met their deaths like men, — 

Which proves the Irish warriors then, 



And are so still, where'er they stand, 
At home or in a foreign land. 
How Irishmen should yet enjoy 
The Irish deeds at Fontenoy; 
And let me, Saxon, ask of you, 
Who gained the day at Waterloo ? 
You must say he was Ireland's son, 
Though a hateful, cursed, disgraceful one. 



Enough of war, as it is well known, 
That Ireland, and but she alone. 
By stripling young and grand sire hoary, 
Still fought for country and God's glory. 
Yet they maintain their ancient creed, 
For which they bled and yet must bleed . 
Though robbed and plundered as a nation 
They kept the means of soul's salvation. 



12 

Next Erin's sons, with soul sublime, 
We find now placed in every clime. 
Of whom at home here I'll begin 
With the noble Earl Dufferin. 
Long may he live to well employ 
That pride of titles. Clan'a-Boye,'^ 
Which title proves, and without fail. 
He enjoys the rights of an O'Neill. 

His generous soul and manners mild 

Characterize old Erin's child, 

His gentleness in our opinion 

Must gain all hearts in the Dominion; 

His noble acts on every hand 

Do honor to old Ireland, 

And tell into the slanderer's face, 

" No tyrants came of Irish race."t 

For Ireland's orators and preachers, 
Her poets, lawyers, science teachers, 
No land can equal her, I'm sure. 
In her Grattan, Burke, O'Connell. Mooie, 
With Cahill and Curran, and a host 
Of patriot heroes she can boast. 
Seeflood and Emmett and Fitzgerald, — 
Can you match them in your Saxon world ? 

*Clan-a-buidh, or Clan-a-lioy— or as Dufterin wrote to his title, Clan de boy- 
was in daj's gone by the distinguishing soubriquet of the O'Neills. 

t'This eulogy was by the writ^.r given to Lord Dutferin, the then governor of 
Canada, because that he, in the exercise of his royal power, had a short time before 
pardoned and set at liberty two men, viz., Louis D. Riel and his companion, who 
had been found guilty of murder by the courts in Canada and M'ere then under 
sentence of death. 



13 



Now the merits of her sons discussed. 
To relate a something here I mnst, 
In relating whicli my mind grows sick. 
The conditions made at Limerick 
The treacherous Saxon shortly broke, 
Then on the Irish forced the yoke; 
And in perfidy they onward went 
Till the} robbed us of our parliament. 



John Bull has got the parliament. 
And Ireland's woes breed discontent. 
Her sons excluded from high places, 
Or must accept them with disgraces/" 
Being robbed by cunning Saxon fraud, 
She now must feel the Saxon rod; 
Her commerce gone, but what came of it 
It went for British tyrants' profit. 



Still worse by far their cunning tricks, 
By law they trampled Catholics, 
And pressed them sorely every way 
By Protestant ascendency; 
For Castlerea and Billy Pitt 
Would strengthen Saxon power by it, 
And weaken Freland's hopes, once hearty, 
By setting party against party. 



*An Irishman was excluded from every place of trust or profit unless he would 
sell his soul and renounce allegiance to his God. But the tyrant, thank God, com» 
paratively spealving-, found but few to sell their honor. 



u 



Internal strife is constant, and 
This scheme by British statesmen plann( 
Succeeded well, and gave them power 
To rule their dupes in evil hour — 
By which the Saxon still grew stronger- 
And held their dupes in bondage longer 
Than otherwise they could have done 
Had these party quarrels ne'er begun. 



As the building that is built on sand, 
Or house divided cannot stand, 
So the nation that will separate 
Through party feuds, will find too late 
That to their rivals they give strength^ 
And must to slavery fall at length 
As Ireland did, though not subdued, 
But weakened by vile party feud. 



These Erin's woes, but only part 
Which sorely crush the patriot's heart, 
Here let us see, if we're not blind, 
A remedy we yet might find 
For Erin's woes, for Erin's pain, 
To restore to her her rights again. 
That remedy we well may say , 
Is nothing less than unity. 



15 



We see some man of talent wiites, 
And 'peerless scietice^^ he invites, 
"To clear from slaver ij hi haste 
^^Her soul ujjJianf cm-haunted waste. ^^ 
But this poor mnn, wo his condition, 
He dreads old Ireland's '' superstition,'" 
Which drend must in his stomach stick 
So long as he's a heretic. 



In presumptions darkness must he sit. 
Since the smoke that issued from the pit 
So dimmed his vision he can't see 
True faith, the fullest liberty 
That clears the soul, and frees the mind 
From bigotry, with which he's blind. 
Science he called, but meant to say, 
'' ' Come, infidel^ philosop)hy . ' ' 



Let Irishmen be all combined, 
Throw party feeling to the wind, 
Consider well their sad condition, 
And with warlike arms send petition, 
They shortly might be well content. 
And, blessed with their own parliament, 
Would flourish as in days of yore, 
With commercial freedom on the shore. 



16' 



I wish these hopes were realized, 
Which will, if by the bulk advisecL 
Then Irish foes would pitch away 
That baneful love of bigotry 
Which did reduce the Irish nation 
And place her in such servile station. 
Then men would act one to the other 
As brother should with Christian brother.. 



My statements, which are truly strict, 
Some may incline to contradict. 
But the critic who may try such freak 
I guess will find his proofs too weak. 
Let you^ who feel this wring your maws. 
Read Scully on the penal laws. 
These things, as legal, there are stated, 
And worse by far than I related. 



To the Home Rule League I wish good speed 
Until it sees its country freed 
And stand once more in lofty station 
The greatest, bravest little nation, 
Possessing sons of noblest nature, 
With bravest soul and 7iianly feature. 
Rejoicing, free from slavery 
And cheered with smiling liberty. 



17 



When Erin's joys will have returned, 
For which the brave have long time nionrn'd, 
I then may write a^oother poem 
Descriptive of my Irish home 
Down in Tyrone, north of the Shannon, 
About a mile from sweet Dungannon, 
Where I have spent my boyhood days 
Pursuing truth and harmless plays. 



To bring this rhyir.ing to an end, 
Believe me, reader, I'm your friend, 
And one who, from his tender youth, 
Still held it crime to cloak the truth; 
Who spurns all falsehood and disguise, 
And must the sycophant despise. 
Straightforward truths did 1 employ, 
Which best becomes a Clan-a-boye. 







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